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A Mating of Two Kitties

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I was a tad worried about Qui-Gon. He planned to meet me for afternoon exercises and never showed. I tried to touch his mind through our bond but failed. We were on Coruscant, in the middle of the Jedi Academy, so what could happen? I decided he must be shielding himself - he'd been called to a Council meeting this morning and was undoubtedly protecting me from his foul mood. I sparred instead with Stavron, whose Master was off-planet on a special assignment.

I skipped showering and changing into clean clothes at the practice hall, thinking that if Qui-Gon was aggravated by a Council decision, I'd drag him into the bath with me. A nice hot bath with loads of sudsy bubbles and a little recreational loving always improved his mood, and certainly never hurt my own.

He was napping on the couch in our quarters, sprawled on his back. The couch is too short for his length, so his legs dangled over the edge. One arm hung into the air, the other rested between his side and the back of the couch. He was wearing only his trousers and I mentally drooled while contemplating my course of action. Let him sleep or wake him with a kiss? Easy decision, really. He never managed to sleep off a dispute with a Council - only intense meditation with the soothing comfort of the Force or great sex with me restored his peaceful equilibrium.

I quietly made preparations, removing my boots, socks, sash and outer tunic. I left my inner tunic and trousers - Qui-Gon liked to open his present himself. Kneeling by the couch, I feathered kisses over his face, his closed eyelids, his sensitive lips, his high cheekbones, that majestic nose.

No response.

Highly annoying. I was dying for his lips to connect with mine. Hours had elapsed since we kissed this morning. My lips were suffering from neglect, my arms were empty. He must be more seriously asleep than I calculated. I wanted him awake and aroused.

I feathered some more kisses on his face, adding small licks and nips, spreading to his ears and throat. Still no response.

I was getting more than annoyed. I was becoming concerned. Nothing ever prevented Qui-Gon from reacting to one of my advances. I shook his shoulder, calling his name gently, not wanting to waken him abruptly.

Still no response.

I shook him harder, saying his name louder.

He woke, yawning, stretching his full length, every muscle in his body rippling. I used our bond to seek his mind. As he segued from dreams to consciousness, his thoughts filled with a wildness, a primal passion, an unthinking animal awareness.

Damn damn damn. He couldn't have been drugged with the Catarrian drug again. He couldn't.

His eyes trapped mine, the familiar azure blue, but gleaming with only a beast's limited perceptions and needs - to sleep, to eat, to mate.

As soon as the insatiable craving to claim me obsessed his mind, his body leaped at mine. Rather than resisting, I accepted his solid weight and rolled back on the carpet. He was on top of me, hands holding my wrists to the ground, legs outside my own, dominating me with his imposing size and strength.

I sighed. Damn. It had happened again. I would have to wrestle him off me and call Yoda for assistance. The aged Master could handle any necessary commitments for us during the next few days. I would lock Qui-Gon in our rooms until the drug wore out of his system. I started to flip him over to free myself.

He growled, a rumbling sound that developed in his chest and gathered volume until it emerged from his mouth with a fierce warning. That growl said I was his. And a demonstration was on his agenda.

"Qui-Gon. Qui-Lion." I attempted logical discourse, appealing to the rational mind behind the beast. "Let me up. I must call Yoda." I tried to roll and this time he dropped his entire weight on mine. Every part of our bodies touched. My breath was forced from my lungs. He began kissing me as I expelled, and his ferocity almost suffocated me.

I could feel him rubbing his chest against mine, his inner thighs sliding against my outer thighs. I grew dizzy as his kiss lengthened, continued for an eternity of licking lips and seeking tongue. My lips would be swollen when he ended his possession.

He released my lips and growled again, a savage victorious sound. His paws ripped at my inner tunic, exposing my chest. He nuzzled his face on mine, on my throat, on my chest, scratching his beard on my skin. He was staking his claim to my body. His hair was a wild and free mane, caressing my skin with its silkiness. His legs and hips were still pressed tightly to mine, and his heavy erection stabbed at me.

Slinking down, he grabbed at my trousers and undergarment, pulling them off my hips. Things were getting out of hand. Or more accurately, too much in his hands. I started gathering my inner control, concentrating my mental focus. Ever since the last fiasco on Catarria, I had trained diligently, improving my ability to use the Force in small, precise measurements, rather than extravagant battle gestures.

In his drugged state, he shouldn't have understood what I planned. As soon as my first Force tendril jailed one hand, he seemed to realize my intentions. His free large paw quickly snaked to my penis. He clutched it and squeezed, roaring a definite warning with a flash of white teeth.

There are some things no man will risk. Peeling a hand the size of Qui-Gon's off that most sensitive instrument when a Jedi Master doesn't want it removed is one of them. I love Qui-Gon's hands. They are huge paws that seem to span my entire body when he caresses me. Comforting, caring, exciting, they also are callused and hellishly strong. My escape efforts subsided. I liberated the captured hand and slackened my muscles to signal my submission.

With rumbling approval, his fingers began kneading me. Not pumping as he normally would, but leaving his hand in one place, his fingers flexing and rolling. I gasped at his amazing skill as my cock rapidly stiffened under his ministrations. He hunched over, his broad tongue darting out to lap at the first leaking drops. A satiated hunger flowed into our bond, as if he'd drunk the finest deverian cream.

I rose up on my elbows to stare down at him, hunkered between my spread legs. His hand and mouth shrouded my penis. His eyes partially closed, as if supremely contented with life. His mouth slurped loudly on the head. His hand finally stroked up and down while the other fondled my balls. I flopped back, moaning, lost to the bliss of being surrounded by my very own Qui-Lion.

He turned me over, hands raising my hips, positioning me before sliding his own trousers down to his knees. I folded my arms together and placed my head on them. There was no oil and I didn't think he was sane enough to use his fingers to loosen me. I began centering myself, preparing to disperse the anticipated pain into the Force.

Somehow, he sensed my strategy. Pearly teeth bit down savagely at my shoulder before I could expect attack, breaking my concentration. That warning purr sounded. I purred back with docile acquiescence, accepting his supremacy. Despite my best efforts, rough animal sex was going to happen here and now. I decided to take what enjoyment I could and worry about assuaging Qui-Gon's troubled conscience when he recovered.

The potent shaft rubbed on my opening and with a defiant roar, Qui-Gon shoved his hardness into me. The pain didn't materialize, as a soft maneuver of the Force opened me to accept his intrusion.

Damn. He was faking. He'd been faking the entire time. Not only could he blank his mind, enclose his intelligence with primitive thoughts, he could probe into my body and ease the tenseness of my muscles.

As soon as I finished killing him, I promised he would teach me both techniques. Beginning with the second one. A Master should never hide knowledge from his Padawan Learner.

Then nothing mattered any more, nothing but his driving, powerful thrusts. His hands clasped my hipbones, moving me to his feral tempo. My folded arms took the brunt of our combined weight and I feared the vigor of his lunges would pound me through the floor. I went insane, shoving back harder and harder, asking for more and more. I never wanted him to stop. I was a great big Qui-Lion fuck toy and I demanded everything he had to give. Or was that an Obi-Kitty fuck toy to be used by a Qui-Lion? My brain dissolved into hysterics as I cried aloud in sexual rapture. Semantics were meaningless as I verged on climaxing.

He stopped, damn him, and bit fiercely at my other shoulder. I would have matching bruises in the morning. The pain dimmed my erection. He waited with only the tip of his cock in my body, petting my back soothingly. His sweat dripped onto my back, as my sweat trickled onto the floor. When I calmed enough that my eyes could focus, I could see drops of wetness turning the carpet dark. He waited until my breath steadied.

I purred, a questioning, needy purr. He growled in my ear, ordering my verbal surrender. I pleaded with alternating purrs and moans. I begged with higher and higher sounds of want and frustrated despair. When I whimpered, he gave me what I yearned for, thrusting with a smooth rhythm, faster and faster. Raw power coursed from his hands clenching my hips, from his cock in my body, until I could taste his domineering energy in my mouth, smell his aggressive male aroma in the air. The speed of his strokes increased until the world vanished, leaving behind only the maddening feel of his mighty shaft expanding to fill my entire body.

I screamed even though I tried to purr, a shrill keening noise as his come poured into my body and mine spilled endlessly on the floor. We collapsed, plastered together, the alpha male dozing on his subdued mate.

When breathing no longer hurt, Qui-Gon rolled off, urging me to cuddle with him. I gladly settled my head on his shoulder, loving the afterglow of togetherness. He whispered into my hair, "I wanted to do that on Catarria. That's why I leaped out the window. I had to. I couldn't control myself around you."

I gave a mild chuckle. "You mean - you made me chase you all over the city and embarrass ourselves on live vidcasts to avoid wild jungle sex?"

He didn't share my amusement. "I could have hurt you, my love. I would never cause you pain. I had to make sure my skill was sufficient for your pleasure."

No wonder he'd been so helpful when I asked to improve my control over minor manipulations of the Force. He'd been studiously practicing a surprise on the side. "Gods, Qui-Gon, that - ." I stopped, licking one nipple reassuringly before resuming, "that would have been worth it, with or without the nifty Force trick. I'm Jedi, I won't break. When are you going to teach me, by the way? The laundress is beginning to complain about us and the massage oil stains."

"Any time you like, Obi-Wan. You're such a skilled student, I'm positive you will immediately master the ability." The words might have a flippant tone, but his voice was warm and adoring.

I thought more about the public mortification we could have avoided if Qui-Gon had succumbed to basic impulses. I began laughing, big whooping laughs radiating from my belly. Qui-Gon's warm hand rested on my abdomen, rising up and down with the vibration of my stomach muscles. He watched me with a quizzical expression until I wore myself out.

"Something amuses you, Padawan?"

I craned my head back to look at him. "I was thinking - we could start Obi-Kitty and Qui-Lion's Maxims of Life. I can quote them when you're being too civilized for my tastes. The first could be - When in doubt, fuck your apprentice. Or maybe - When all else fails, fuck your apprentice." I started laughing again at Qui-Gon's bemusement. He covered my lips with his, swallowing my laughter, virtually devouring my tongue as he leisurely but completely explored my mouth. I stopped laughing and began moaning.

Qui-Gon apparently decided my hysterics would be improved by exhaustion. He proceeded to demonstrate for the remainder of the afternoon and long into the night, that no matter what we decided the first half of the maxim would be, his skill at the second truly made him the king in my life.

The End